The Life of a Celtic Warrior
by Red Nightmare14
Summary: England has had a hard life. During his long life, he caused his mother's death as well as witness his aunt's; he has hidden from Rome and his brothers and seen so many battles and held so many scars. Maybe now people will understand why the skies always rain on the country of England.
1. Death of an Angel

_"While I thought I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die."_ \- Leonardo da Vinci

_England's story starts around 2067 years ago, when England (called Albion or Britannia at the time) was surrounded by Celts and Picts and being invaded by the Romans._

A scream erupted from the largest and tallest tree in the rich, green forest. A beautiful, blonde-haired woman called Gwendolyn Kirkland, the personification of the present land, Britannia had gone into labour with her seventh child... In the middle of a fierce battle! Her and her red-headed husband's people, the Celts, were battling against the Romans for their land. The Roman Empire, the Roman's Nation, had stabbed her in the stomach, making her go into labour almost a month and a half early. The child would be extremely lucky to survive.

Another painful contraction hit her, but Britannia tried not to give away her position with another scream. The baby's life depended on them keeping him secret, at least until he or she was born. Britannia's looked at her husband, Byron Kirkland, called Papa Celt by the six children they had at home, for assistance. Celt was the personification of the people, an extremely rare phenomenon as Nations were usually the land, though they were once numerous many years ago. Papa Celt had taken a Britannia away from the battle field to help her have the child. Britannia looked at the deep and bloody cut on her stomach and hoped it had not hit the baby.

That was when Papa Celt delivered the hard news. The baby was struck and it's air supply was cut off, it was suffocating. Britannia screamed at her husband to take the baby from her womb using her sword, stained with the blood of many emery Romans. She knew even in early pregnancy that this child would replace her as the personification of her land, along with its older siblings. She was told by whatever god, goddess or archangel in her dream that this child would mark her death. And she didn't care. She was getting old. At over three thousand years, she was ready for the old to be replaced with the new.

Papa Celt was hesitant to cut open his wife. He loved her. She was his angel. Literally, Britannia was a secret angel, the Britannia Angel. She and her sisters - wherever they may be - had been born angels before misfortune had struck the family and they were kicked out of Heaven. The all-powerful superior had left Britannia, as a child of fourteen, an angel on Earth. Papa Celt was a firm believer in magic, an increasing rarity in the evolving world as most older Nations were having children of their own and these new children weren't hard believers of magic. They preferred to concentrate on war and superiority. That was why Britannia and Celt had raised all their children to obey the laws of magic, wizards, witches and mythical creatures. This child would hopefully be raised in the same way and, in the end, could be the new Britannia Angel.

Britannia could see her husband's hesitation, so she took a chance that the Romans wouldn't hear her and screamed as loud as her lungs would allow, "Do it! It can't breathe! Hurry!" she screamed in Nation language.

Seeing his wife's pure white wings falling to her swollen sides, Celt grabbed his own bloody sword and plunged it shallowly into the deep cut on Brittania, and drew it vertically across her stomach.

Britannia bit her tongue so hard that she drew blood from it. Celt gently lifted the baby out of her womb. It wasn't breathing. "It's not breathing." He said. Tears ran down. Britannia's pale face.

Then the sound of crying filled the air. The once strong woman that was Britannia had been reduced to a crying mess, the pain was more excruciating than she thought it would be. Celt laid the dead baby down on the grass. "It's dead." Then, just before they would start mourning,a Britannia gave another piercing shriek as another ripple of pain ran through her. Celt carefully took the second baby out of its moter. And nearly dropped it again. Wrapped around the new-born baby's body, covered in blood and ogre, was a pair of dark grey wings. It clashed beautifully with the child's blood-blonde hair and emerald green eyes. Celt passed the baby, who had still not yet cried out of the womb, to its mother and said, "it's a boy." Britannia chuckled; using the last of her breath she kissed the baby, passed it back to his father and replied.

"I'm sorry, my son," And stopped breathing.

Celt quickly put the baby down, next to his dead sister, wrapped his arms around his wife and cried. The baby opened his eyes and looked at his dead mother with curiosity. Then looked at his dead twin, spreading out one of his wings, he touched his sister's side. Bright light surrounded them, catching the attention of his father. The grey in his wings disappeared, leaving behind clean, pure white wings and a ball of black magic hovering in the air.

The black magic fell and hit the dead child. The girl dissolved into darkness and hit Britannia. Celt simply stared as his wife's body dissolved into a pure white shine and mixed with the black ball. The resulting grey shine shot into his son and caused his white wings to briefly glow before fading back to white. A voice sounded in the air from the angels, "_Beware of the third year. Britannia and child shall live again._" The voice stopped.

Celt looked at his son. "Less than an hour old and already making a difference. You certainly are something special, little Albion." He looked up at the darkening sky, then back to where his wife's body had lay. "But I can't keep you, you killed her."

A spear hit the tree near where Celt was kneeling. Celt fell over in shock, opening his eyes to see Pictland, Britannia's oldest sister, starring down at him with blood on her hands and face. "Where. Were. You?" she growled, clearly referring to battle Celt had left when a Britannia went into labour.

Celt's eyes narrowed. He had never had a good relationship with his sisters-in-law, especially Pictland, who delighted in torturing his people for her entertainment. He glanced at the baby, hatred burning through him even more. Then, an idea flashed through his head. He shoved the baby into Pictland's arms and ran, ignoring Pictland's cries and threats at him.

Pictland's muscles tensed. The bundle in her arms began to cry. She stared at him. The baby stopped crying and stared at her back. The recognised the baby as her nephew from her sister's blonde hair and green eyes and a strange feeling rose within her. Love. For this tiny child who looked so much like her little sister. She hadn't even felt this feeling when she'd had her own children; then again, their father wasn't very nice. She gave the boy a rare smile. "Well, if your bastard father won't look after you, I will."

Little did she know she wouldn't have long to enjoy her nephew.


	2. A Pict's Sacrifice

**LoneWolfsRage: Continue I shall!**

**Also, I forgot to do a note at the end of he last chapter so... Note: That chapter was supposed to take place during Julius Caesar's second attack on England, or Britannia as the Romans called it, Albion to the natives, in 55 BC (he landed on 26th August). Basically, he attacked from Gaul (France) where he was governor (in charge of the people, making sure they played nice with the Romans and getting taxes), fought a few battles, took some chieftains (heads of clans) captive, got bored and went home. This was the second invasion; the first had taken place the year before, but was unsuccessful. Turns out people don't being slaughtered. This second invasion was better as the Romans managed to install a king, Mandubracius, who would be nice to them, but didn't actually gain any land, all Roman-occupied territory was given to allies in Albion like the Trinovantes (in Essex and South Suffolk) who, before the invasion, were considered the most powerful tribe in Britain.**

_"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living." - _Marcus Tullius Cicero

Eighty-eight years. Eighty-eight years since the birth of Albion. And eighty-eight years since the death of Britannia, Pictland was getting old fast and was slowly growing weak from war. Albion has been ignored by most of his family, specifically Celt and his children (especially his sons, at least, those who bothered to stay), Eire, Alba and Cymru, as Papa Celt had rejected the boy as the cause of his wife's death. Pictland always told little Albion stories of his mother and as Celt was always busy fighting and being a pain to the Romans, the only people Pictland had to worry about was Celt's other children and, of course, the Romans. But there was a bad thing.

Nations, or hundreds of years, had grown very slowly, although most of the younger Nations were now quicker, none were growing as quick as Albion. At eighty-eight years old, ideally he should have still looked like a newborn (at least, that's what Pictland's own children had grown at) or, at the most, eighteen months old. But he looked three. That worried Pictland (and she wasn't the worrying type), he baby boy - as she called him - was growing too fast. If he continued growing at this rate... She tried to make the most of what she thought was a short time left she had with her nephew.

She wasn't wrong. But it wasn't Albion whose days were numbered.

Pictland was taking Albion to the coast. Albion loved the sea, the calming blue waves were the same colour as Britannia's eyes, the same eyes that had extinguished many years ago, the same eyes Pictland would never see again. During the outing, they heard the sound of a horn. Looking towards the dark blue water, Pictland could see a fleet of Roman ships coming towards the island. She quickly shielded Albion behind her back, protecting him from the prying a Roman eyes who would love the chance to take a young defenceless Nation.

A big man wearing what looked like a white dress and a golden belt began yelling strange and confusing words at Pictland. "Hae propostitiones huiusmodi sunt. Ego sum de Imperium Romanorum. Aliquam impetum, yei ad devoramdum. (I am the Roman Empire. Submit to the invasion or be destroyed.)"

Albion didn't understand the strange language, which was Latin, but Pictland did. "Non casu, Rome. Soropis nepotem Occidisti minitatur. Morieris, per me yei per alium. (No chance, Rome. You have killed my sister and threatened my nephew. You will die, by me or someone else.)" She spoke in broken Latin.

Albion looked at his aunt and grabbed hold of her arm for comfort. "Aunt Pictland," he said. "What are you saying? And who is that man?"

Pictland turned to face Albion, shushing him quietly. "No one, little Albion. Go home and hide." She then unhooked Albion's hand from its clutched position on her arm and watched as her blonde nephew ran away to the thick forest, and smiled sadly and looked back at Rome. "I know why you are here, Rome. And my people will fight until their last breath."

Rome chuckled and slipped into the old Nation language. "I know, barbarian. But last I checked your oldest nephew is still an inexperienced teenager. Your sister and brother-in-law are dead. Your people are not even yours. They are your nephews', your death will mean nothing to no one." Rome then leaped off the ship and drew his sword. "But you are the only thing currently standing in my way... So I will have to get rid of your first!" and he lunged at Pictland.

Pictland quickly drew her spear and blocked the attack. But Rome took out a dagger that was hidden in his belt and stabbed the Pict in her stomach. "How fitting." he said, staring as the red-haired women sank to her knees. "Your sister died when I stabbed her. Now you are dying from a stab wound, too. Sister like sister." He turned and started speaking to his soldiers.

As the last of Pictland's life ebbed away from her, the wings she hid under her clothes turned into a white light. The light then zoomed away, as fast as lightning and disappeared between the trees. Rome's eyes widened. "Per autem videbat. Brittanni nunc vocant. Aliquam Britannia. (The child was watching. I shall now call him Britannia. Little Britannia.)"

In the bushes, two green eyes watched evidently at Rome and his aunt's demise. His blonde hair being ruffled by the wind and the angelic voice that soothed his thoughts and the pain of his new wings growing on his back, the voice of one that had long since passed.

_"Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown and outs away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies." _\- Edna St. Vincent Millay.

* * *

**Note: This chapters takes place in AD 43, when Emperor Claudius (the fourth Roman Emperor) finally took over Britain (or at least Albion) (his predecessor, Caligula, had honestly tried to invade, but forgot to tell his army and it was called off.**

**The Pictish people later became the Scots and the Irish (mostly the Irish) and were generally depicted as being very violent. **


	3. Running from Rome

_"Always do what you are afraid to do." _\- Ralph Walso Emerson

* * *

Albion moved to leave the forest, but didn't see the twig under his foot... Rome heard it and turned towards him. "Hello there, Britannia's son."

Albion screamed in terror and fled, running through the woods to warn his brothers. As he neared his brothers' home he began to yell, "Alba, Erie, Cymru..." Albion stopped his shouting. For some reason he was calling his brothers (at least three of them) who always tried to kills him on their father's orders. But that wasn't why he stopped; the Romans had managed to get to his home village before him and were now killing men and kidnapping women and children for whatever reason. This got Albion worried for his brothers, "Al-"

A hand wrapped around his mouth and pulled him into the shadows of the trees. Albion tried to kick and punch his capturer but the man turned him around to meet his eyes. "Cymru!"

"Shh," Cymru hushed his younger brother. "Albion, listen to me. I'm sorry for attacking you, father made us. Eire and my countries have already been captured. I have to go to Rome now."

"No...no..." Albion cried, trying to push his brother to attack, he couldn't lose another family member, no matter how much he hated them.

"It is too late, Albion. Eire is already on the ship. But Alba has escaped and is now in his country, attacking the Romans. You know them. They are Picts."

Albion stopped crying when a Roman came past, looking for the escaped country. "Romans... Rome."

Cymru smiled. "Yes, little Albion, Romans. They are building an empire and are growing stronger by the day. But your people are fighting back. They just need you to run. Stay away from Rome and his soldiers. Stay hidden. Go to the Iceni tribe. Their ruler, Prasutagus, will help you, hide you."

Albion nodded and turned away.

"One more thing, little Albion," Albion turned back to his merciful brother. "You may want to hide your wings." Cymru chuckled.

Albion looked behind his back. It was true; on his back were two beautiful, pure white wings. He knew what this meant. Aunt Pictland had told him of his mother, the Britannia Angel. He was now the Britannia Angel, the bridge between the spirit and physical world, the giver of the heart's most desired wish. Cymru passed Albion a dark green cloak. "Until you can figure out how to hide those things, you better wear this. If the Romans see you with wings then they will know you are a Nation and not human."

Nodding, Albion pressed his wings against his back and covered them with the cloak. Flashing one last smile, Albion ran from his caring brother and towards the Iceni tribe. The last thing he heard from his brother was his screams as he was recaptured by the Romans.

Cymru fought against the muscular Roman soldier who had been the first to grab him. He screamed for his little brother to run and take care before a different voice silenced him. "You think you have saved your Angel brother, but Britannia will be mine, along with your savage Alba. You have failed, Cambria. Now, let us get you back to the ship."

Cymru started at the great empire with no hint of fear in his eyes, he simply replied, "My name is not Cambria, and little Albion is not Britannia. That is our mother, whom you killed."

Rome chuckled, "Yes, I accidentally killed your mother, she refused to become my lover. But little Albion, as you say, is her replacement, so he is Britannia. Your father, that barbarian Celt's death, however, was no accident."

Cymru's eyes widened at the news of his father's death. "You...you killed our Papa! Murderer! You shall pay for what you have done!"

Rome smiled and told the soldiers, in Latin, to take Cymru away. Watching the Nation being dragged towards the ships, but not without putting up a fight, he thought about the young Nation: _if this is calmest of Britannia's sons and, if the strongest of them got away, then maybe this Alba will be my downfall. If not, the youngest will most certainly be hard to capture. Is is going to be a long trip._

Meanwhile, Albion had taken to the trees, his favourite mode of transportation, and was quickly nearing the Iceni tribe and their leader. "Hey, who are you?" A voice that was neither Nation, Roman or even Pictish but Celtic made him turn his attention to a red-haired girl of around fourteen. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Albion was quite surprised to see such a strong girl. "I am looking for the Iceni tribe and its leader, Prasutagus," he replied to the girl in her own language.

The girl smiled. "I live there and I know Prasutagus. I can help you get there."

Nervously, Albion jumped down from the tree and took the girl's waiting hand. "Thank you...er..."

"Tell me your name first."

"Albion of the land."

The girl's expression looked shocked. "Really, I never expected you to look so...little. But I shall still help you, little Albion."

Albion chuckled, his nervousness vanishing. "Now what is your name?"

"Boudicca."

* * *

_"We shall never know all the good that a simple smile can do." _\- Mother Teresa.

**Note: Despite popular belief, the Romans were quite savage towards places they conquered. Those they didn't kill were usually made slaves for live. The Iceni tribe were one of the tribes that survived the initial onslaught and would have been and safe-ish place to stay. The Celts called Scotland, Wales and Ireland, Alba, Cymru and Eire respectfully while the Romans called Wales, Cambria.**


	4. Boudicca's New Nation

_"__Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten."_ – David Ogden Stiers

Albion and his guide Boudicca travelled the short distance to the Iceni tribe quickly. On the way, Boudicca asked questions. _"__Why are you going to the Iceni tribe?"_

_"__A nation called Rome has attacked and has captured my two of my brothers. Only Alba and I are left and Alba fled back to his country."_ Albion tried to stop the tears flowing from his eyes.

Boudicca looked at the young nation. _"__Then why go to the Iceni tribe?"_

_"__The ruler is…was a friend of my father's, Papa Celt."_

_"__Was? Is Celt dead?"_

_"__Yes, I believe Rome killed him."_ Albion looked down in despair. _"__Or at least, that is what I was told."_

Boudicca's expression changed from caring to fury. _"__That Roman, this is not the first time he has attacked. Ninety years ago he attacked your mother, Britannia, and killed her."_

Albion sighed, _"__I know. My aunt told me. I was to replace her. But with Erie and Cymru captured and Alba will not look after me. Cymru told me to go to Prasutagus; I hope he will look after me. So I can fight against Rome."_

_"__I am sure he will look after you."_ Boudicca chuckled. They arrived at the fairly large tribe and Boudicca led Albion towards the biggest tent_. "We are here, little Albion."_

Albion looked up from the ground to see an un-touched Celtic village. Boudicca walked into the leader's house without knocking and called. _"__Prasutagus, we have a visitor!"_

A man appeared from the next room and kissed Boudicca on the lips and asked. _"__Who, dear,"_

Boudicca pushed Albion towards Prasutagus. _"__Our Nation has come to warn us of the Romans."_

The man, Prasutagus, looked carefully at Albion. "_Yes, he is defiantly our new Nation. Celt told me of the young child that came to replace his wife."_

Albion looked at Boudicca. Did she know Prasutagus? _"__Do you know Prasutagus?"_

Boudicca nodded and answered. _"__Yes, I am his wife."_

Abion's eyes grew. The wife of his father's friend had helped him get to Prasutagus. Boudicca placed her hands on Albion's shoulder and pulled him close. _"__Can we keep him? He needs someone to help him. Please."_

Prasutagus grinned and ruffled Albion's hair. _"__Yes, of course we will Boudicca. Although I don't think he will grow much."_

Boudicca hugged Albion hard and kissed his cheek. _"__Can I call you son?"_

Albion's eyes lit up. _"__Yes…mother, father."_

Prasutagus and Boudicca both hugged their nation turned son. The first hug of many for the new family.

_"__The love of family and the admiration of friends is much more important than wealth and privilege."_ – Charles Kuralt

**Note: Boudicca was fourteen when she married Prasutagus who was much older than her, but this was not unusual. Life expectancy was quite low in Celtic times and men usually got themselves younger wives because they could have more children than older ones.**


	5. Raising Albion

_"__My family is my strength and my weakness."_ – Aishwarya Rai Bachchan

The next sixteen years was the best Albion had in the hundred and six years he had been alive. Prasutagus and Boudicca were the best parents he could ever ask for. Prasutagus told him many stories of his father and mother and even a bit about his brothers. He also taught him how to use a bow and arrow. Boudicca on the other hand, acted as if he was her own child. They were brilliant.

And several years later, it got better.

Boudicca was pregnant. And Prasutagus and Albion were overjoyed. Prasutagus was going to be a father and Albion considered the unborn child to be his little sibling.

But it didn't last.

The Iceni tribe was attacked by the Romans and Prasutagus, Boudicca and Albion were captured. Prasutagus tried to save his wife and country. He pretended that Albion was his child.

_"__Please, sirs, spare my wife, she is pregnant. Spare our son. He is just a child."_

The lead Roman looked down at Prasutagus, then Boudicca, then Albion. _"__I can see that your wife is pregnant."_ He said, in the broken Celtic tongue he had bothered to learn. _"__What are your names?"_

Boudicca pulled Albion behind her, shielding him from the Roman's piercing gaze. _"__My name is Boudicca. This is my husband, Prasutagus. And this is our son…"_

She glanced at Prasutagus for a name. _"__Er…A…Artair. His name is Artair." _He returned Boudicca's glance, who smiled her thanks.

The lead Roman spoke a few words of Latin to his soldiers and nodded. _"__Alright, we shall spare you and your family. But…I need to speak with you, Prasutagus, in private."_

Prasutagus nodded and led the lead Roman into the hut while the soldiers kept an eye on Boudicca and Albion. Albion whispered words to Boudicca. _"__Is papa going to be ok?"_

Boudicca knelt down beside her adoptive son. _"__I don't know, little…"_ She glanced at the watching Romans that were listening to the conversation. If they were, she couldn't give away Albion by saying his Nation name. _"__Little Artair. But even if worse comes to the worst, I will protect you, my son."_

Albion hugged his near-to-tears mother and answered. _"__Papa shall make it. He is too stubborn to leave us."_

_"__You are right, little Artair, you are right."_ She looked towards the hut. _"__That's why I love him."_

A while later, Albion didn't know how long, the Roman chief and Prasutagus returned from the hut. The chief nodded, vaguely at Prasutagus and left with his soldiers.

_"__What happened?"_ Boudicca questioned her husband.

Prasutagus gathered his wife and 'son' in his arms. _"__They have decided to leave alone for now, in exchange for half of the tribe when I die. They will be back. But for now, we are safe."_

Boudicca began to choke on her tears as she rubbed her unborn baby inside her. Albion hugged his dad's leg while Prasutagus picked him up and wrapped his arm around Boudicca.

A beautiful family of three, soon to be more…

Twelve years later, Albion was running through the forest with his new sisters, Heanua and her younger twin, Lannosea. Sadly, not all was well with his Albion's new family.

Prasutagus was dead.

Even though Prasutagus had named the Roman emperor a co-ruler alongside his daughters in his will, the Romans had ignored it and had attacked the Iceni tribe. Boudicca had decided to stay and fight, but had sent Albion, Heanua and Lannosea to the forest to keep them safe.

_"__Hurry up, Artair!"_ Lannosea called, using the name Albion had been given many years ago. Heanua grabbed Albion and ran as fast as she could after Lannosea.

And right into the arms of Rome.

Rome grinned as he snatched Albion from Heanua's grip. _"__Well, hello again, Britannia, nice to see you again after all these years,"_

Albion decided to play dumb and replied. _"__My name is Artair, I do not know a 'Britannia'."_

Chuckling, Rome threw Heanua and Lannosea to his soldiers and flipped Albion's green cape off his back, revealing his white angel wings. _"__Oh, really, then why do you have Britannia's wings, Artair?"_ He then tugged Albion and the girls to where the rest of the village, including Boudicca, had been taken. Rome then turned back to the young colony, _"__Now, little Britannia, you have a choice. Surrender yourself to me or I will punish this mortal family of yours."_

Even though Albion was much older than Boudicca, he still had the physical body of a three year old. He still thought of Boudicca as his mother and advisor and so he looked at her. Boudicca didn't want her country to be enslaved and shook her head at Albion. _"__No, little Artair,"_ She mouthed to her 'son'.

Albion looked as bravely as he could at the huge empire and responded. _"__No."_

Rome looked perplexed at the colony. It didn't look like he was used to small, young colonies defying him. Then he sighed and said, _"__If that is your choice, little Britannia. Guards, take the women and do what you must."_ He then turned his attention back to Albion. _"__And you, little Britannia, are coming with me."_

_To be a good father and mother requires that the parents defer any of their own needs and desires in favour of the needs of their children."_ – James E. Faust

**Note: When Prasutaus died, he left his half of the tribe to his daughters and wife and half to the Romans. Romans looked down on women and they couldn't inherit land so the Romans look over the rest of the Iceni tribe. Boudicca fought against the Romans for her daughters' inheritance.**


	6. Crime and Punishment

_"__Is it a crime, to fight, for what is mine?"_ – Tupac Shakur

Apparently when Rome had said Albion was coming with him, he meant "I'm throwing you in a box with strange sticks holding you in." and Albion didn't like it. Rome had given him back his green cloak that had thankfully escaped being torn, Albion didn't know what he would do if what he thought was the last thread of him holding him to his lost brothers was broken. He took out a small amulet that was wrapped around his neck and smiled down on it. It was a surprise that Cymru had sewn into the cloak. Boudicca had found it and cut it out for Albion to wear around his neck. It fell down so low that it covered his heart.

Engraved on the shiny surface were the words (in Nation), 'Memories of Brothers, Alba, Erie, Cymru, Albion and More. Always forever,' Because of the amulet, Albion always felt he was connected to his brothers in one way or another.

The sound of the iron bars scraping across the ground woke Albion from his daydream. Several guards came in trying to force Boudicca in. they threw her the ground and quickly shut the door, blocking Boudicca from strangling them. _"__Where are my daughters? Answer me! Where are they!"_ she screamed.

Albion gently placed his hand on Boudicca's arm. Boudicca looked straight into his eyes and wrapped him in a hug. _"__They can't understand you, mama. What did they do to you?"_

Boudicca smiled weakly at the small colony, _"__They paraded me through the town and…whipped me."_

_"__What about the girls?"_ Albion tried to change onto what he thought was a better subject.

_"__Worse."_ Boudicca's grip on him tightened considerably. _"__They've…done things that I never wanted them to do to them."_

Albion could sense that this was something that he didn't want to know about. So he kept quiet and snuggled closer to the woman.

He was woken quite a while later by the door again, but he didn't move. This time Heanua and Lannosea were tossed into the box. Lannosea immediately broke down crying and moved away from her mother while Heanua just looked up sadly. _"__Mum. They…they…"_

Boudicca shushed Heanua and gently placed Albion down. _"__I know. They told me." _Heanua sobbed a little and fell into her mother's arms. _"__Our people will rescue us."_ A scream erupted from up a flight of stairs outside of the box. _"__In fact, they already have."_

A man arrived at the bars of the box and broke it with his sword. He then screamed at them to run. Boudicca picked Albion up again and held Heanua close to her. Lannosea followed, keeping well away from the man.

They were free again.

_"__The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off."_ – Gloria Steinem

**Note: When the Romans kidnapped Boudicca and her daughters they paraded her through Londonium (the Roman version of London) and whipped her. They usually did this to people they had defeated and then would kill them afterwards. Lannosea and Heanua were raped by Roman soldiers. I'm not sure what happened to them afterwards but Boudicca at least faced the Romans again a while later. Presumably, they had been freed by loyal tribal men but probably not as fast as I have written. It probably would have taken weeks to free them.**


	7. The Last Battle

_"__Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal."_ – Richard Puz

A few months later, Albion stood next to Boudicca facing the Roman army…and the Roman Empire. This was hopefully going to be the battle to stop the war between his people and the Roman's. Boudicca gave Albion a small smile before shouting, _"__Charge!"_ and both armies ran forward.

Albion held onto Boudicca's dress as the chariot they had stolen on a raid raced forwards. Heanua and Lannosea were in another chariot, with Lannosea driving and Heanua holding a sword and swiping away at the Romans. Albion was too small to hold a sword, but he was shooting arrows out of his trusty bow that Boudicca had given him.

Keeping an eye on Rome, Albion kept his arrows flying through the sky. Suddenly, a Roman soldier banged against the chariot and Albion fell to the ground. Boudicca was about to turn the chariot around when Albion yelled at her, _"__Do not stop! I will be alright!"_

Boudicca gave a quick nod and focused her attention on the Roman leader. Albion dodged the people charging and crashing against each other and ran towards the forest and climbed a nearby tree. From his vantage point, Albion could see both Romans and Celts. But Albion wasn't interest in his people or the Romans, he was searching for the one who killed his parents, his aunt, and tortured his family.

Rome.

The man in question was also searching for someone. His eyes fell on the small boy in the tree. Rome gave a smirk and ran into the tree. Luckily, Albion was totally adapted to living in the trees from living with Pictland and held onto the branches. Albion looked down at Rome and screamed, _"__You cannot get me down, Rome. The tree is too strong for you to shake me down. Please leave my country and do not come back."_ Rome carried on shaking the tree, still trying to get Albion down.

A scream erupted from the battle field. Albion recognised the voice and began jumping from tree to tree, confusing Rome. While Rome was scanning the treetops for the small colony, Albion jumped down and ran into the crowd, searching for his adoptive mother. For a long time, Albion searched for his family.

Suddenly, a male voice cried out in Latin, "_Britannia populo! Regina et filiae vestrae sunt. Nunc et nos cedamus! _(People of Britannia! Your queen and her daughters are dead. Surrender now!"

Albion still didn't completely understand Latin, but he had a vague understanding of it. He ran towards the man, whom he recognised as the Roman leader and saw, at his feet, the bodies of Boudicca and her daughters. At that moment, Albion lost all confidence in himself, he fell to his knees and started to weep.

Rome appeared and stood behind the small child. _"__I warned you, little Britannia. You would not win, and now your mortal family is dead. Your people have surrendered and you have no one. Come with me. Your brothers are waiting for you."_

The child looked at the Empire, right in the eye, causing Rome to flinch at his glare. _"__My people may have surrendered,"_ He glanced at his wings, still hidden under the green cloak, and knew what he had to do. _"__But I must be free. And I still have one more brother."_

And with that, Albion turned and continued to run. Away from Rome, away from his people.

And away from his brothers.

_"__I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."_ – Charlotte Bronte

**Note: Stories have said that Boudicca poisoned herself after the battle but I think given her war-like nature she would most likely have been killed in battle. I do not know if her daughters were there, but it would be a nice thought (or a not-nice thought as they would almost certainly have been killed there). Before the Romans had invaded the island, the Lowland Scots did trade nicely with the "English" Celts and many had family up in Scotland so it would not be so farfetched that some needy Celts after having their tribal villages destroyed would go up to Scotland to stay with family. **


	8. Britannia and Belgica

Chapter Eight: Britannia and Belgica

_"__The greatest gift of life is friendship, and I have received it."_ – Hubert H. Humphrey

Albion walked down the country lane, wondering if he had made the right decision. For years he had been looked after by his people, Boudicca, her husband, their daughters. Now they were all gone. Rome had conquered his country and kidnapped his family, well, almost all. Alba! Alba would look after him!

With high spirits, Albion headed north, towards his oldest brother. It was a long journey, and at the end of the day, as night drew in, Albion climbed a tree and fell asleep. He was woken early in the pink morning by a scream in another tree. Albion looked towards the tree and saw a girl holding onto the tree by one hand, the other hand clutched tight in a fist.

Not waiting, Albion skilfully jumped from tree to tree, just as the girl began to fall. Albion wrapped his legs around the branch, hung down and grabbed the girl's hand. The girl's frightened green eyes locked with his and Albion spoke in his native Celtic language. _"__Are you ok?" _

The girl looked at him strangely, not being able to understand him. So Albion spoke in Nation. "You are fine?" his pronunciation was a bit off as he hadn't spoken it in a while, but it seemed to work. The girl nodded and Albion lifted her up and seated her next to him on the branch. _"__Who are you?"_ he asked.

The girl didn't answer to him and she looked down at her leg. Albion looked where her dress ended; there was a burn on her knee. Albion squeezed his mouth into an 'o' shape and said, _"__Do not move. I will be right back."_

Albion jumped down and ran off. He gathered some plants that would help the girl's injury and probably pain and came back. The girl was still there. Sitting on the branch, looking worryingly around, she saw him and smiled warmly. Albion smiled back and climbed the tree and sat next to her again. He leaned her back and used the plant juices to cool the burn. The girl winced.

After that was done, Albion noticed other cuts and bruises on her. The girl spoke in fluent Nation. "I am the personification of Belgica; I am looking for the Nation of this land? Britannia?"

Albion nodded and answered, "I am Britannia."

The girl, Belgica, looked shocked. "I expected you to be a girl. Sorry." She corrected herself after noticing her insult.

"It is okay. I believe I am named after my mother."

"That makes sense."

They both chuckled for a while. Albion wondered, if Rome called him 'Britannia', and the name had spread, then maybe he should start calling himself 'Britannia', people wouldn't know who he was if be used 'Albion'. "Why are you here?"

Belgia started to get tears in her eyes as she answered Britannia's question. "I heard that you were conquered and I came to warn you…" she started to sob, "…I…I have…being bullied by Rome and his emperors. They hate me. I came looking for help."

She then started to cry loudly. Britannia rubbed her back when she leaned her head against his lap. "Why did you climb the tree? It is obvious you do not know how to get down."

Belgium opened her closed hand to reveal a crushed pink flower. "I…I wanted to get one of these flowers. But I have crushed it."

Britannia looked up at the tree. It was a pink blossom tree. He took the pink flower from Belgium's hand, threw it to the ground and climbed even higher into the tree. He picked the biggest, brightest and prettiest flower in the tree and brought it back down to Belgium. "Here you go." He said, putting it in her hair. Belgium blushed and mumbled her thanks.

She looked down and paled instantly. Britannia chucked and picked her up in his arms. Belgium squealed as Britannia carried her down. Setting her on the ground, Britannia leaned against the tree trunk and smiled, "You are welcome."

"That was embarrassing."

"Well, only I saw it."

"True. Where are you going?"

Britannia smiled glumly. "I am going to my brother, Alba in the north."

"Lucky you, you have someone to go to." Belgia sighed. "Most of my family have been captured by Rome. I do not know what has happened to them."

Britannia could see the tears in Belgia's eyes. Suddenly, he had an idea. "Would you like to come with me?"

Belgia grinned and hugged Britannia. "I would like that."

_"__Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey."_ – Aman Dhanda

**Note: I am not sure if any people from the conquered mainland Europe would have headed to Britain in warning, but they would have gone for safety. The northern regions of the island (right near the now-border with Scotland) has had large numbers of Germanic people over the years. However, the inspiration for this little scene came from the help Great Britain gave the Belgians in World War I and I do kind of see England, Belgium and Portugal as the anti-Bad Touch Trio with each of them facing off a member of the BTT. (England and France, Portugal and Spain, Belgium and Prussia).**


	9. Betrayal

Chapter Nine: Betrayal

_"__Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love."_ – John le Carre

Britannia continued his travels to Alba by the sea cliffs, now accompanied by Belgica. Belgica was a very curious young girl and was currently asking him questions. "How many siblings do you have?"

"I have three older brothers, although Cymru told me that I have more. Do you have siblings?" Britannia asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

Belgica nodded. "Yes, I have two brothers, but no sisters. I would love to have a sister. You know someone my own gender."

"Trust me, having sisters are just as annoying as having brothers." Britannia giggled, remembering Boudicca and her daughters.

Belgica looked at him curiously. "It sounds like you know a lot about having sisters. Are you sure you do not have any?"

Realising his mistake, Britannia shook his head. He didn't want anyone to know about Boudicca, it was in the past. "Does Rome have children?"

Belgica thought about it for a moment, then nodded her head. "Well, he has grandchildren, so he must have children. But I have never met them, nor do I want to." She looked sadly down at her feet. "I miss my family."

Britannia stopped and sighed. "I know how you feel. Alba is the only one of us who is not captured or killed. Besides me,"

"Killed!"

Britannia nodded. "My mother was killed by Rome immediately after by birth. My father and aunt, only a few years ago. My aunt in front of me."

Belgica gasped; her hand flying to her mouth. _"_In front of you! How mean. I could not stand having one of my brothers killed in my sight." She wrapped her arms around herself. "It would be too much."

"It was almost too much. But if I died then who would my people live for?"

Belgica looked deeply into Britannia's eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding and hugging him close. Britannia almost recoiled, not being used to another Nation's touch as Pictland rarely hugged him, before nervously hugging her back.

"Weel, ain't that sweet, (Well isn't that sweet,)"

An accented voice in Nation caused Britannia to push Belgica away. "Alba!" he screamed, running towards the man.

Alba scooped Britannia up in his arms, spinning him around in the air. "Albion! Guid tae see ye! Thought ye hud bin taken by th' Roman, (Albion! Good to see you! Thought you had been taken by the Roman,)" Alba continued.

Britannia shook his head and wriggled to be let down. Alba obliged and placed Britannia back on the soft grass. Britannia took Belgica's hand and led her towards his brother. "Belgica this is Alba," he said to Belgica, "Alba, this is Belgica," he replied to Alba.

"Hello, Alba, I'm Belgica. Britannia helped me before, he offered to take me with him." Belgica smiled to Alba. Alba stared confusingly at Belgica, then chuckled in a knowing voice.

The two younger Nations blinked at him confusingly until Alba dismissed his chuckles as 'grown-up stuff' and left it at that. Alba ruffled Belgica's long, blonde hair, "Tis a'richt, Belgia, ah kin keek efter ye. You tae, Albion.(It's alright, Belgia, I can look after you. You too, Albion)"

"Britannia," Britannia replied. Alba looked at him sceptically. "It is what the Roman calls me." Alba nodded and spoke to him quickly in Celtic.

Britannia's mouth opened slightly. Belgica closed his mouth and shook him awake. Britannia fell to his knees and turned and ran back towards the ocean. Belgica was about to run after him when Alba placed his hand on her shoulder to stop him. "Where is he going?" she questioned.

Alba sighed and picked her up. "He wull be back, ah wull tak' care o' ye baith, (He will be back, I will take care of you both,)"

_"_What is wrong with him?" she spoke sternly.

Alba looked towards the ocean. "Ah juist tellt him that oor brother, Erie, wis ne'er captured by Rome. He abandoned us, (I just told him that our brother, Erie, was never captured by Rome. He abandoned us.)"

_"__Is it possible to succeed without any act of betrayal?"_ – Jean Renoir

**Note: Soon after Albion was taken over (Cymru was pretty much part of Albion at this point), the Romans tried to take Alba, but failed as the people were more violent and stronger than the people of Albion (and also the mountainous terrain was a problem). The Romans also tried to take over Erie built failed in a similar sense (except without the mountains).**


End file.
